


The Scale's Not Fit For Advice

by Zoe13



Category: 5 Seconds of Summer (Band)
Genre: Anorexia, Anxiety, Bulimia, Depression, Eating Disorder, Insomnia, M/M, Panic Attacks, Self Harm, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-04
Updated: 2016-10-04
Packaged: 2018-08-16 11:46:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,607
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8101213
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zoe13/pseuds/Zoe13
Summary: He feels too much. There are too many ways to describe it, and not just one word will ever be able to summarize how he feels. He feels messed up, that's what he feels.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Title- Numbers by Pompeii. That song speaks to me like almost no other does, even though music is my language. It's extra close to my heart and sometimes it's my only way to explain. But listen with caution.
> 
> Also I know the sections are all different lengths and some are drastically different in size, and it's peeving me but I don't really know how else to do it, so sorry.

_Tired._ Thatdoesn't really cut it anymore. It's such an understatement, it feels as if he's dumbing it down. But it's technically true, and the best lies contain some truths. _He's just tired_. 

His eyes feel sunken in to his skull, and they ache and burn. His eyelids are heavy but will never stay closed. Sleep evades him, and his mind is dull. Tonight is not one for anxiety- no, this is that empty depression that causes him to stare at the wall for hours with those red rimmed eyes that see nothing.

Luke is only a few feet away in the next bed. They have fallen into a habit of sharing rooms, and he thinks that maybe Luke was chosen to try and get through to Michael. They think Michael is a little down. Maybe he's homesick. 

He's dying, is what he is. Dying to feel loved, dying to feel attractive, dying to feel talented. Dying to _feel_. It would be a lie to say he cares for nothing when he wants all of those things. 

He's so tired of wanting but never having.

 

 

 

 _Slow_. Getting up is a harder task than almost anything has ever been in his life. It's not until blue eyes fill his vision and coax him with the worry lines around them that he moves, and even then he can barely do it. _Sit up. Swing your legs around. Push off the bed. Struggle to stay upright. Dig for clothes in your suitcase. Nearly fall over again_. 

It's a whole rhythm of life now, every other movement is bracing himself in case he falls. Perhaps he overdid things yesterday. It's alright, he'll manage. 

Their lives involve a lot of _hurry hurry hurry_. He was never a morning person, but after the band began he used to be right up there with Ashton, bounding ahead with excitement for the next adventure. Now he knows they are frustrated at his laziness, his pointless sluggishness. They push him here, pull him there, tsk over his heavy dark circles and pretend they don't see the red lines on his wrists. Not his band mates- no, not ever them- but management, makeup artists, anyone else. They prop him up every day and won't let the boys know because then the tour would be over.

A bite of cereal. Too slow, now they have to leave and he's had no other food. Good.

 

 

 

 

 _Hungry_. He's learned to stop being hungry unless it's been days. He supposes he's made enough progress to eat a little, get a few nutrients before it all comes back up. Then he'll go longer the next time. 

There's no time yet, though, and they start a radio show he forgot they even had today. When did he get in the booth? 

His stomach growls loudly and they all joke about it, him blaming it on his late rising. He's not sure who buys it and who doesn't, but he doesn't care, not anymore. He's so hungry and tired he could fall asleep right here... 

 

 

 

 _Bruised_. His body hurts when his eyes open, and he realizes he's on the floor. His panicked looking bandmates are gathered around him, and he hears someone on the phone. He fell out of his chair. He wasn't careful enough. This is bad.

Luke's yelling at him, but Michael knows it's his scared voice.

"-said something! You scared the hell out of me, Michael, I-"

He's dizzy again. His whole body feels bruised, and his chest is rattling.

"I'm sorry."

"It's alright." Eyes soften and smile slightly. "Why did you pass out?"

 

 

 

 _Untruthful_. He really shouldn't be this good at fabricating stories, at saying he's just stressed and can't sleep and missed breakfast. It's not _really_ a lie, so they tell him to take a few days off but let it go. He finds out why the nurse doesn't comment on the weight the scale reads when their manager calls him to tell him to keep it under control. He's costing them money from one cancelled concert and two cancelled interviews.

Encouragement from the fans barely lightens any of the guilt he feels for letting them down. He doesn't give a fuck if their manager isn't happy, but he doesn't want to disappoint the fans. He feels like he's lying to them as well, even if its a truth. It's just part of the truth, and that doesn't feel right. He's falling apart. 

Luke won't leave his side, constantly asking how he feels and shoving water and gatorade at him. Calum and Ashton give them space as they see Luke go into maternal mode, and Michael is left alone with Luke. He doesn't quite like that, but he also loves it. He lies some more- lies to himself and says he doesn't enjoy it being just him and Luke, and lies to Luke and says he's feeling better. 

"Do you want me to sleep with you tonight?" Luke says, and then flushes a dark red. Michael brushes it off with a slight laugh that cuts his own heart.

"No, it's alright. I want to learn to sleep without any of you with me." Lies. 

Luke almost looks disappointed. But Michael is just lying to himself, because Luke would never want to. 

 

 

 

 _Nauseous_. He couldn't refuse dinner- how could he without suspicion? It's much easier to take what he's given and then excuse himself. 

The nausea hits him so hard, he leans over the toilet and can't even make himself vomit. He can't help crying, seeing his red rimmed eyes in the reflection of that disgusting water, and _what the hell is he doing?_   Why is he like this? He's _sick_. This is ridiculous, he can't keep this up-

He heaves, gasping and choking on tears and vomit. It's disgusting, _he's_ disgusting, _what_ is he _doing?_ But then it's over and he remembers why, feels empty and light and maybe a little dizzy, but so much better. 

The nausea never seems to go away, but at least he is empty. _Wash your hands, turn off the sink, wipe your eyes, smile in the mirror, leave_. Don't let them know. He sits back down at the table and pretends that the sight of the food doesn't make him nauseous. 

 

 

 

 _Drained_. Today has been overwhelming, and he can barely move. His head aches, his eyes itch, and he's just so _drained_. Luke is still following him around, coaxing him out of his clothes and into sweatpants and a shirt, and then into bed. He offers to stay again, but Michael can't. He can't do that. So Luke takes the other bed and pulls out his laptop, the _click clack_ of the keys soothing Michael ever so slightly. He wishes it could always be like this, Luke only a few feet away as he rests. He tries to shut down those thoughts. He can't afford to think like that, and he has enough going on. He's too tired to sleep, as contradictory as that sounds, and it makes him want to cry again. He's just staring at the ceiling sightlessly, wishing he could just get some rest for once, for the first time in so, so long. 

 

 

 

 _Longing_. Luke changed and went to bed a little while ago, but Michael knows he's still awake, his phone screen illuminating his face and the wall behind him. Michael finds himself just lying there, trying not to watch but failing so miserably. Even like this, Luke is so beautiful. His hair is a mess, his shirt has slipped over to one side revealing part of his collarbone, and his eyes are sleepy, sliding shut and then opening again. Michael wants him so badly, and he hates himself for the feeling of longing, for wanting what he can never have. 

"Go to bed, Luke," he says as Luke forces his eyes open again.

"No," Luke mumbles.

"Why not?"

"Because, I'm going to stay up as long as you do." 

"I'm not trying to stay up."

"I know, but I'm going to stay up with you."

"You won't be able to," Michael snorts. Luke doesn't answer, just moves to sit up and focuses on his phone again.

 

 

 

 _Frustrated_. Luke's eyes are watery and droopy, and Michael is frustrated with him. It's not like Michael is _trying_ to stay awake. Luke's just being a little shit again. 

"Luke, you're going to be miserable tomorrow."

"I'll be miserable with you, then," Luke says stubbornly, looking at Michael over his phone.

"Luke." Michael's tone is bordering on angry.

"Michael," Luke mimics, looking a little more awake. Michael shouldn't encourage him. Talking to him will only make him more determined to see this through. 

" _Luke_ , I'm not going to be able to sleep, and you know you can't stay awake all night."

Luke's shoulders sag. "I don't want you to just lay awake alone."

"I'll be fine, I do it every night."

" _Every night?_ " Luke asks sharply, entirely alert. Shit. Michael had maybe not exactly mentioned that part. 

"Not every night, just enough to be used to it," he amends, hoping Luke's tired enough to buy it, but the other boy doesn't look sleepy anymore.

"Shut the fuck up, Michael," he says, getting out of bed.

"What are you doing?"

"Sharing a bed with you," Luke grumbles. 

Michael gives up.

 

 

 

 _Resigned_. Luke falls asleep shortly after, but not before shoving himself against Michael's side and wrapping his arms around him with a mumbled _shut up_ before Michael has even said anything. Michael can't pretend anymore. He'll take what he can get of the other boy. His heart is always going to hurt when he looks at Luke, but something about him helps him feel a little more whole, a little less hollow. It's just enough to keep him hanging on. But it hurts, dammit, it hurts more than the rest combined.

 

 

 

 _Empty._ The moment he opens his eyes, he knows that he has shut down. He wakes up with Luke's arms around him and he feels nothing. He is hollow. Luke seems to know the moment he wakes up and looks into Michael's eyes. They must look as empty as he feels. 

"How do you feel, Mike?" 

"Fine," he says hoarsely, which means  _I don't feel a goddamn thing but somehow it hurts_. 

Luke frowns and remains silent as they get up and find Ash and Cal for breakfast. Neither of them say a word, but they seem to know as well. Michael is getting worse at hiding things because he doesn't care anymore. 

 

 

 

_Lost._ He's just sitting on the hotel room bed, staring at the wall. He feels like passing out again, but he fights to stay upright. Ashton and Calum went out to explore the city around the hotel, but Luke stubbornly refused to leave Michael alone. He's sitting on the other bed using his laptop, but every once in a while he looks up at Michael and frowns when he sees that he hasn't moved an inch in the past couple hours. Michael still feels hollow, and he has no clue what to do about it. What does one do in that situation?

One would think that experience would help him learn, but he has never found a way to deal with this. It's too much. He just has to wait until he breaks and it comes back. 

 

 

 

_Anxious._ It suddenly hits him how close Luke is to figuring everything out. He's already seen too much, and he will never let it go. What is Michael supposed to do? Luke can never know, can never figure out what a crazy freak Michael is. If he can't have Luke how he wants him, can't he just keep him as a friend? Doesn't he deserve at least that much?

Maybe not. Maybe he doesn't deserve to even _know_ Luke, or Ashton, or Calum, or anyone who cares about him. They only care because they don't know him. They shouldn't care, they should hate him, they should- 

Luke flies to his feet as soon as he realizes Michael is struggling to breathe. Panic has him in an icy grip and he can't get air into his lungs. 

"Michael, Michael, god, I didn't notice-" Luke grabs his hands, nearly panicking himself. He swallows hard and tries to calm himself as Michael stares at him with wild eyes. "Michael, I need you to listen to my voice, okay? Can you do that?"

Michael nods violently, trying to focus on the worried blue eyes looking at him. 

"Okay, good. Now I'm going to breathe, and I want you to try to breathe with me. It's gonna be hard at first, but if you try it should work after a bit, okay?" Luke tells him. Michael nods again, and Luke places Michael's hand on his chest as he breathes in deeply. It's the touch more than the breathing that helps Michael just a bit, and Luke seems to realize that as he moves forward and pulls Michael into him, still breathing in an exaggerated manner so that Michael can try to breathe with him. Michael's head ends up on Luke's chest, and he feels it vibrate as Luke keeps talking. He can hear Luke's steady, strong heartbeat, and he closes his eyes and listens to it. A few tears leak out of the corners of his eyes and he feels angry when he doesn't know why, but he can't help it. 

"There you go, Michael, you're doing so well." Luke keeps encouraging him, and eventually Michael feels himself calm down entirely. 

He doesn't want to let go. 

 

 

 

_Trapped._ He barely eats any dinner, but it's still too much. They order room service and Luke makes him eat some, probably thinking that he's just down in the dumps from the canceled concert and his anxiety attack. It's not entirely wrong, it's just not entirely right either. Of course he doesn't tell Luke that. Instead he excuses himself to the bathroom with a joke that seems to relieve the boys, even though he's barely expressing any emotion at all. 

He vomits the moment he smells the toilet water. It's an automatic reaction now. He should probably be worried about that, but he's too busy being worried about the fact that he locked but didn't completely close the door behind him. He tries to sit up to go shut it, but he falls back on his knees as a dizzy spell hits him hard. Not _now_.

It's okay. The boys don't suspect. They're in a hotel, the boys are on one of the beds around the corner and far enough away that they don't hear. He'll just take a second and then close the door. It'll be just fine. It'll be alright. He's okay, _he's okay-_

He's freaking out again. It's worse than the last time, panicked thoughts of the boys finding out, of the boys knowing about how much of a _freak_ he is, clouding his mind and racing his heart. The sound of gasping sobs fills the room and that only makes him panic more. He's taking too long in here. What stops this? How can he stop this?

Pain is the only thing that works quickly. He doesn't have his blade, so he does the next best thing and shoves his fingers down his throat, coughing and choking as he vomits acid into the porcelain bowl. It burns, but it works, and he feels relief rush through him as he leans over the toilet, coughing quietly. It's okay. He can focus and close the door, then he'll flush the toilet and scrub his mouth out and tell them something stupid to make them laugh and not notice anything is wrong. 

He turns around to see Luke standing in the doorway, frozen in shock and horror. 

Oh. _Oh no no no no-_

"Luke, I-"

He chokes. What the hell is he supposed to say? Judging by Luke's face, he saw everything and has been too shocked to make a sound. How can even Michael, who has learned to lie and hide everything, make this okay? He's too tired from his last panic attack to have another, and all he can do is let his voice die in his throat and just collapse with his back against the tub by him. He stares at the floor.

"Michael-" Luke's voice cracks in the most _awful_ way and Michael flinches. "Michael, _what?_ "

"I...I just haven't felt well since I passed out." It sounds hollow and he knows he didn't sell it.

"You had your- your fingers do-" Luke chokes off. "I..."

There's really nothing to say. Michael wants to laugh. He stares at the ground instead.

"Just leave, Luke," he whispers. "You shouldn't have seen."

"Michael..." Luke's face sets and then suddenly he turns and walks out of the room.

Some foolish part of Michael is disappointed. Some foolish part of him wanted Luke to stay, to _worry_ , but that's, well, _foolish_. It's best this way. He draws his knees up to his chest and lets his head fall forward onto them, breathing deeply. He's starting to feel detached again. A few tears leak out of the corners of his closed eyes but he's not even sure why. He doesn't even really feel sad. 

Then suddenly Luke is back and sinking to the floor by him, wrapping his arms around him and holding him so tightly Michael feels as if he'll be crushed. He wouldn't have it any other way. _Luke_ _came_ _back_ , he isn't leaving him. He doesn't know what to say, so he just lets Luke hold him. 

 

 

 

_Confused_. He isn't sure how long they've been sitting here, but finally Luke rubs his nose against Michael's shoulder in a small show of affection that warms Michael's heart and then moves to stand up, pulling Michael with him. 

"Let's clean you up," Luke says, surprisingly calm. "Then we need to talk."

Talk? Why? What's there to say? Luke is supposed to pretend it never happened. That's what they all do unless they're angry at him for being too obvious. 

"Okay," he says instead of expressing his confusion. Luke fishes out his toothbrush from the shit cluttering the sink and leaves Michael to clean out his mouth as he flushes the toilet and looks around for any vomit. When Michael is done, he takes his hand and guides him out into the hotel room. 

Ashton and Calum are nowhere to be seen.

"Wh- what did you tell them?"

"I said that you weren't doing well and that it would be best to let you have a quiet night," Luke says, dropping Michael's hand to dig through his suitcase. "But they're going to want to know. Just because they left us alone tonight doesn't mean they aren't concerned. They just know it's best not to overwhelm you."

Michael swallows hard. Having them all know? They don't even know everything, just- the thing Luke saw. That, whatever it is. But they'll know about it, and management will yell at him, and maybe they'll want to cancel the tour-

Oh god, what if they replace him for the tour- or permanently? What if they kick him out of the band? Oh god, oh god- he can't-

"Breathe, Michael, it's okay," Luke says softly, coming over to him and gently taking his face in his hands, cupping his cheeks. His face is close, and Michael can smell him, as creepy as that sounds. It's familiar, and that helps. He sucks in some air and fights the panic. "Good, you're doing so good, Michael," Luke praises him softly and Michael should feel embarrassed, but for some reason he doesn't. Luke's making him feel like he's doing something right, and that reassures him.

"Thanks," he says hoarsely after a moment of normal breathing. Luke smiles, but his eyes are so worried that Michael wants to pull away and say something really stupid to act like nothing happened. But he can't. He may be a first rate liar, but Luke is smart, and he knows Michael like no one ever has. 

"I'm worried about you," he says to Michael, and Michael doesn't understand. 

"Why?"

 

 

 

_Apologetic_. All he did was ask why Luke is worried, he's not sure why the other boy burst into tears. He panics in a different way, searching desperately for any way to fix whatever he did wrong. 

"I'm sorry, Luke, I'm sorry, what's wrong?"

But that only makes Luke cry harder and Michael feels like shit. 

"No, I'm sorry," Luke sobs, and he yanks Michael toward him so hard Michael gasps out loud as they crash into each other and Luke's arms go around him tightly again. 

"Why?" Michael questions again. 

"I don't even know what's wrong," Luke chokes, "but you're not okay and I didn't even notice- no, I did, but I brushed it off and that's _even worse_ -"

"No, Luke, it's my fault, I'm too good at hiding things-"

"I know that now!" Luke wails. "What else are you hiding?"

Michael automatically tenses and then curses his body for reacting. Luke seems to read it correctly. "So there _is_ more," he mutters. He's calming down, but that scares Michael a bit. Now he'll think it though, and he'll figure it out. 

 

 

 

_Terrified_. Luke picks up the clothes he dropped, sniffling but composing himself, and hands them to Michael. It's sweatpants and a graphic t shirt, something Michael always wears to bed. 

"Change," he says firmly.

Michael takes the clothes without a word and moves to go to the bathroom, but Luke gets in between him and the door.

"No, in here," he says. Michael panics. _No, he can't, Luke will see everything_. 

"I- I don't want to, you know I don't like changing in front of people-"

"I know," Luke says, voice wavering, "so you can either tell me why, or you can show me why."

He knows, he must know. Or at least he has a strong enough suspicion that nothing will stop him. Damn that boy's stubborn and caring heart, it's going to make this so much harder. But Michael has always loved that about him too. 

"I can't," he whispers. 

Luke chews on his lip for a second, looking torn. 

"Let me help you," he says after a moment, taking the clothes from Michael's frozen hands and setting them on the bed. Then he slowly, hesitatingly, reaches for the hem of Michael's shirt. Michael's breath catches, but he doesn't move a muscle. Luke looks at him for a moment, but he seems to find some sort of silent reassurance, because he tugs the clothing upward, and Michael just lets him pull it over his head, lifting his arms. 

He's breathing a little hard but fighting the terror he feels. He'd been wearing long sleeves instead of his bracelets, and as the weather has gotten colder he's started cutting his stomach and abdomen as well. The thick, angry scars are on his wrist, but there are hundreds of thinner ones on the rest of his body that clothes can cover easily. 

 

 

 

_Ashamed_. Luke's breath hitches in a choked off sob, but he's looking down and Michael can't see his face. He's embarrassed, ashamed. He feels like an idiot for getting caught, for being too obvious. 

Luke's hands shake and he reaches for Michael's jeans. Michael flinches, but he can't make himself move otherwise, and Luke unzips them and pulls them down. Michael is far too ashamed for it to feel at all sexual, and he wordlessly steps out of the pants. His legs are pretty bad as well, but at this point Luke doesn't seem surprised. 

He lets out a shuddering sigh and then gently pushes Michael backward onto the bed before curling around him protectively. 

"I'm sorry," he says. 

"I'm a freak," Michael whispers, and Luke doesn't even get mad, he just starts crying again. 

"No you're not, you're teally not," he chokes out, his grip tightening around Michael. "You're just- you're tired and depressed and you must feel so alone because nobody knew-"

"Lots of people know." Michael is yelling at himself on the inside but it just comes out. 

"Wha-what?" Luke sniffles. 

"Management, the makeup crew, any of the stylists- they all know. They have to help-"

"Have to help hide it?" Luke asks lowly, and now his voice is dangerous. 

 

 

 

_Protected_. Michael shivers, but the thought of Luke being angry makes him feel a little comforted, for some reason. But no, it's his fault, Luke is probably angry at him. 

"Yeah, they were so angry about the show-"

"Damn the show!" Luke yells, and Michael flinches as it echoes through the room. "Sorry, I'm sorry. I just- how long have they known?"

"Couple years."

Luke is silent, but Michael can feel him trembling. He's _shaking with anger_. Michael has never known him to be so angry about something, ever. He doesn't know what to think about that. 

"So, what? They just prop you up and make you hide that you're- that you're falling apart?"

Michael doesn't flinch at that because it's true, he's falling apart. At least Luke sees it now, and he'll leave and they'll find someone better who can keep himself together-

"I'm so, so sorry, Michael. I should have seen, I should have known you weren't just- I don't know, homesick or something."

"It's okay," Michael says. 

"No it's not," Luke argues. 

"It's my fault, I tried to hide it."

"Because they made you think you had to!" Luke's voice rises and then he shuts up, trying to calm himself. 

 

 

 

_Hopeful_. Luke seems to be struggling with his anger, but his touch is gentle as he strokes Michael's back comfortingly. He's not mad at Michael. _He's not mad at Michael_. 

"So this has been going on for- for years?" He asks finally. Michael sighs. He might as well keep talking, Luke's seen too much already. 

"The- the cutting I've been doing since before we met." Luke flinches but doesn't interrupt. "The...other thing is more recent. A year and a half, maybe." He doesn't tell Luke he knows down to the day when it began, when he first shoved his fingers down his throat and determined to cut down on eating drastically. Luke already seems pained, though god knows why. 

"You should have told me," Luke whispers, but it's more self-deprecating than scolding toward Michael. 

"I didn't know how to. I didn't want to fuck things up for you three. I've already made them cancel a show and I've let down all of those fans-"

" _Michael_." It's an order, and Michael immediately stops. "You haven't let anyone down. I'm sure they're all worried, and we definitely are. I don't give a flying fuck if we cancel a show or the whole goddamn tour. You're more important than any of that. You're more important than even our whole fucking careers, do you understand that?"

Michael shakes his head. "This- playing music- it's a dream we all had for ourselves before we started. You couldn't just-"

"I'd give up anything for you to be okay, and I _will_ give up whatever it takes, do you hear me?" Luke sits up so that Michael can see his face. He's dead serious. "You're my best friend in the whole world, Michael, you mean- you mean everything to me."

Michael just stares at him. He wants so badly- but he can't think like that. He's hurt himself enough. It's more than he could ask for to have Luke as his best friend already, it would be selfish to try for more. 

"I don't want to make anyone give up anything," he says instead. 

"Michael, you need help."

"I don't, I'll be fine, I'll get help after the tour, just let me finish it-"

"You can't," Luke says. "You're barely holding yourself together as is, I can't lose you over this. We don't have many shows left, we'll come back, we just have to have you there with us. I know Ash and Calum will agree."

 

 

 

_Hesitant_. Ash and Calum? Is he going to tell them?

"Do they have to know?" He asks fearfully. 

"They're gonna want to know why the tour is cancelled," Luke says.

"We can't cancel the tour," Michael sats firmly. "I'm not going to make everyone-"

"You're right," Luke says. "You're not going to make anyone do anything. _I'm_ going to. I'm going to tell Ashton and Calum that we need to cancel the tour, I'm going to tell management they can go to hell and fuck themselves, and I'm going to fire every goddamn part of this crew that let you think you had to do this for the fans or went along with this- this- forced hiding you've been in. And I'm going to make you get help because I respect that you're an adult but you're not fucking okay and you're too godamn selfless to do anything about it so guess what? I will. I'll be the bad guy if I have to. I don't give a shit." He's glaring Michael down and in any other situation Michael would laugh at how cute he looks when he's angry, but he really doesn't want to cancel this tour.

"Luke..."

"I'll do it, all of it, and you know it," Luke says stubbornly. "But let's not talk about that now. We can do that tomorrow. Right now I want to know how you're feeling."

Michael pauses, taken aback. How _is_ he feeling? 

"I'm feeling- I'm feeling everything." He says, inwardly cursing himself for being confusing. But Luke seems to understand. 

"I'm sorry," he says, "I shouldn't have gotten angry. I'm not mad at you, I swear. I just want to take care of you."

_I just want to take care of you._

He can't help it. He starts crying. 

"Michael, Mikey, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to upset you-" Luke tries to comfort him. 

"No one's ever said that before," Michael chokes. Luke looks stricken. 

"No one tries to take care of you, do they?" He says. "I mean Ash keeps us all in line and- but you're always checking in on us and- godammit, Michael, you're not letting anyone down, we're all letting you down."

"No," Michael shakes his head. "How would you all know I'm so pathetic I have to have someone looking after me?"

"Everyone does, Michael, it's just that you're that person for so many people, we forget you need it too. But not anymore, never again. I'm going to take care of you."

Michael's trying not to cry out loud, and he buries his face in Luke's chest. Luke moves his arms up higher to wrap around Michael's shoulders and holds him so close it feels as if Michael might just fold into him. He wouldn't mind. 

"I'm going to take care of you because you're important," Luke continues. "Because you're not pathetic, you just need help, because you're my best friend, because I love and care about you, because it's about damn time you got back what you gave. I'd do anything for you, Michael, I really would, so you need to just accept that now and let me."

 

 

 

_Safe_. Luke is so adamant, Michael really doesn't understand. He's thought about this so many times, wondered how Luke would react, and it never went well in his head. But then again, nothing ever does. 

"I thought you would be angry with me," he says finally. Luke doesn't seem surprised but he shakes his head violently.

"No, Michael, never. This isn't your fault. Don't even think that."

"But- but why don't you just find someone to take my spot? You could finish the tour, you could even just repla-"

"Don't you fucking _dare_ finish that sentence, Michael Clifford," Luke orders, eyes sparking. "I'm going to murder every godamn employee at this godforsaken label if I have to, I-"

"Luke, they just did what they were told. They weren't mean to me." Michael wants to clear that up, but he can't deny that Luke being angry on his behalf feels good. 

"Fine, just the higher ups," Luke grumbles. "But you don't need to know that."

Michael laughs. Luke always brings that out, no matter what.

Luke smiles at him sadly. "Was that real?" he asks. 

"What?"

"How often are you just faking it? Do you ever- are you ever genuinely happy?"

_When it's just the four of us, sometimes. When I get caught up in the music, sometimes. When I think for a second that maybe you love me back-_ "sometimes," he says. "Sometimes I manage to forget, just for a moment. But then it comes back. It's just false hope."

"You'll get it back," Luke says, pulling back to look him in the eyes. "We'll get help, okay? There's nothing to be ashamed of. We all want you to be okay. Ash and Cal have been freaking out just as much as I have, they just didn't want to overwhelm you with it. They want you to be okay too." 

"Okay," Michael says. 

 

 

 

_Loved_. They talk most of the night. Michael doesn't feel fixed, that's not how it works, but he suddenly feels lighter, as if Luke helped take some of the weight off of him. He's amazing like that. 

Ashton cries when they tell him. Calum cries a bit too but he mostly gets mad like Luke did, and he only calms down when Ashton tells him he'll upset Michael. Michael can't find it within him to be upset, though, he's too busy feeling, well, loved. His boys care about him, don't they? He tried so hard to believe that they didn't, but why did he? They do, they really do. 

Ashton is the calmest in all of this and he tells them he'll be the one to break the news to their manager. It makes sense, so they all agree. Michael still feels terrible, but they force him into the middle of a four person cuddle and he can't stay upset. 

"You can always come to me," Ash whispers to him when Luke and Calum fall asleep. "I should have noticed, but I also know how hard you want to try and hide that you're not okay- I don't understand your specific struggle but I understand some." 

Michael wants to say that Ash at least had legitimate reasons and legitimate pain, but he's seen half of the band angry today and he doesn't need to see Ash's Incredible Hulk side. Not that Ash would ever get so angry with him, but he might change his mind about having a civil conversation with management. Maybe they _have_ been unfair to Michael, what with refusing a therapist or any sort of treatment or diagnosis. Or threatening him when he's not careful enough at hiding it. Maybe. Or maybe they're right.

"Okay," he whispers back, because he's not going to ruin this moment. "I'm sorry."

"It's not your fault," Ashton tells him. "It's a disease, in a way. You're not entirely in control, I understand. But please just know that I am _always_ here, and if you need someone to talk, I'll talk, and if you need someone to listen, I'll listen."

"Thank you," Michael says, because Ashton means it. He cares about him and wants to help.

Calum didn't have much to say after he cooled down, but he's wrapped around Michael's back right now and that says enough. Calum's ready to fight anyone for him, Michael knows that, and that's Calum's way of saying _hey, I love you even if you're a messed up idiot_. Maybe minus the _messed up_ part. Calum would definitely call him an idiot, though. 

Ashton goes to make the call after a while, and Calum disappears with him for some reason. Michael can only hope he won't be a part of that conversation. They may be willing to push things for Michael, but they don't want to get fired. At least not just because Calum threatened to skin them all alive or something. Michael appreciates the protectiveness, though. Calum's all about grand gestures. 

Luke sits on the bed with him and starts doing research on some doctors. "I want to get you in as soon as possible," he says. "Find someone who's opinion we can trust and ask for advice. You're going to hate me, but they may want you to- well, stay somewhere."

"Like a rehabilitation center?" Michael asks hoarsely. God, no, he doesn't want that. He can't be apart from his boys, he just can't. 

"I don't know," Luke says honestly. "But maybe not. Maybe it would be best if you stay with one of us. I'm sure they'll know what's best."

Well it's obviously best for him to be near his band mates. He'll just tell them that. They'll let him, right?

"Hey, Mike, I'll see what I can do, okay?" Luke reassures him. "It may depend on how willing you are to cooperate, do you understand? You have to be trying to get better. Even if they did send you away, the better you do, the faster you're done. It's not a permanent 'fix' but it'll help you get back on your feet, okay?"

Michael just nods. He's tired, and he doesn't really understand what's going on, but Luke said he would take care of him, and he's going to let him. He doesn't need to worry about this. Luke's handling it. It'll be okay. 

"Thank you," he says. "I don't even- I don't know."

"You shouldn't feel like you have to thank me," Luke says sadly. "This should have happened long ago. I wish I'd seen it sooner."

"It's not your fault," Michael says. Luke sets his computer to the side and takes both of Michael's hands. 

"I should know you well enough by now," he says softly, facing him. 

"You know me better than anyone else does," Michael admits. It feels like a confession, but it's not. He's fighting hard to keep it that way. 

"I'm proud of that," Luke says with a small smile. "Being your best friend is the most important role I have."

"That's ridiculous," Michael says. 

Luke looks extremely exasperated. "You're impossible, do you know that?" He says.

"What?" Michael asks, extremely confused. 

"I keep trying to tell you how important you are and you just don't seem to understand how that could be."

"I don't," Michael says simply. Luke looks at him for a moment like he wants to shake some sense into him, but he seems to suddenly change his mind as he pulls Michael forward and presses their lips together. It's gentle, but it still surprises Michael. He almost doesn't respond, but then Luke goes to pull away and he just _knows_ he'll apologize, and that would ruin everything. So he pushes forward, wrapping his arms around Luke's neck to keep him close because hey, he started this.

Luke just smiles against his lips and then cups his face gently and it's perfect. 

 

 

 

_Happy_. It's not a permanent feeling. It isn't for anyone. But it's more than he's had in a long time, and he'll take what he can get. It happens more and more frequently now. It's the rush when they're back on tour, the contented sigh and warm feeling whenever Luke kisses him, the smile when Calum or Ashton drag him off to 'hang out alone because Luke hogs you.' He's not 'fixed' because it doesn't work that way, but he's learning how to beat his illnesses. He's learning how to fight them off. 

It happens enough that he thinks he can say he's happy. 


End file.
